Horizons of Sky & Stone
by just call me Cappy
Summary: The dragon Smaug has been defeated and the battle to reclaim the Mountain has been won, and King Thorin has claimed his rightful throne. As the dust of battle clears, a fragile and growing love blossoms between Kili, Erebor's youngest prince, and Tauriel, the emissary between the Erebor and the Woodland Realm.
1. Chapter 1

**HORIZONS OF SKY AND STONE  
><strong>CHAPTER 1

* * *

><p>The nighttime air was cool against her cheek as she rode through the twilight, the last rays of evening disappearing behind the distant foothills.<p>

In front of her, the Lonely Mountain loomed, lit by the last few rays of dying light. For a day and a half she had rode tirelessly from the Woodland Realm towards the mountain, making as few stops as possible, and as it drew closer and clearer against the horizon her heart began to race; her fingers turning numb with excitement.

Now it stood so close; so close! She could already see how the flickering torches cast velvety shadows and dancing gold light upon the stone statues by the gate, and she urged her horse to ride on, faster.

* * *

><p>He sat by the window, contemplating the light of the summer moon as it hung low and dusky in the sky.<p>

It was the only light that entered the room; the corners of the echoing chamber farthest from the window were shrouded in darkness. Servants had come in not long ago, offering to light the braziers and candles, but he had sent them away.

"Just a little longer," he asked, and they left, curious at their lord's behaviour. As darkness descended and the moon rose, Kili's eyes searched the inky night skies for a trace of the stars. But tonight they hid behind a thin layer of cloud, their glimmer muted and soft.

He sighed, a dull pain settling in his chest. The light of the stars always reminded him of her; and when she was far away in her woodland home, he'd watch the stars dance across the night night sky and miss her. But tonight the stars were hidden; they were just as far away as she was, and he wondered with an aching longing when he would be able to see her again.

It had been a year since Erebor was reclaimed. The dusts of battle had settled, and once the dead were buried and mourned, they had begun to rebuild. The people of Lake-town settled in Dale, restoring the ruined buildings, raising farms, and even resuming trade. Dwarves from the Iron Hills had come to Erebor to help rebuild their long-abandoned kingdom - at first in small, trickling groups, but now their folk as far as the Blue Mountains arrived in droves, bringing with them tools and goods and much-needed resources. They had begun to work in the mines and forges, and once more the halls were filled with song and voices and golden light - as if they had never left.

And Tauriel had returned to the Greenwood, where her King Thranduil had lifted her banishment and reinstated her post as Captain of the Guard. But, curiously, she had been given a new responsibility: emissary between the Kingdom of Erebor and the Woodland Realm, and had since visited twice on official errand to deliver messages and news. It had been half a year since her last visit, and Kili was beginning to wonder if King Thranduil felt the role no longer suited her.

There was a knock at his door. He gave permission to enter, and a guardsman stood in the doorway, bowing respectfully.

"My lord," the guardsman said. "A guest for you approaches."

Kili recognized at once that this was one of the watchmen who stood guard over the main gates of Erebor. And from the tone of the guard's voice, and the fashion the message was delivered, made him realize instantly who this particular guest was. It was no secret in Erebor that their Prince Kili particularly favoured the Elven emissary, and everyone - from the King's high council members to the lowliest kitchen-hand - knew that when she arrived, Kili would be the first person who wanted to know.

He leapt from the window ledge. "Thank you," he said, barely able to conceal his excitement; "Thank you!" and he flew from the room running.

* * *

><p>The watchmen by the gates heard her horse approaching, recognized its rider. They lowered the drawbridge. As it slowly descended, Tauriel's heart was beating so wildly in her chest it felt as if it had grown wings.<p>

She surged forward as she approached, never slowing, and even before the lip of the bridge touched ground she and her horse leapt into the yawning cavern of an entrance, galloping until she was flanked by the towering pillars and echoing golden halls of Erebor.

A familiar figure came running from the end of the hall. She let out a breathless gasp, his name already on her lips, and reined her horse to a stop. She dismounted in a single, fluid movement, her feet in flying in leaps as they touched the ground.

"Tauriel!" he called, and she rushed forward to embrace him. She'd fallen to her knees, and he was laughing as he caught her.

He smelt of sunshine and deep summer, of hay and fine wine and old leather. She missed this smell, so much. Her fingers dug into the furs of his fine cape as she leaned into him, and soon tears pricked at her eyes.

"Tauriel?" he said again, this time softer, more tenderly. He drew back and looked into her face; and she hurriedly brushed away her tears.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, smiling apologetically. "I have traveled so long to get here. I hardly stopped to rest; I was so impatient."

"I would have told you to rest in Dale for the night, and just come in the morning," Kili replied, unable to stop smiling. "But I'm happy you're here now. I wanted to see you again, so badly."

Tauriel looked up to meet his eyes. There were subtle changes since her last visit: His hair was longer and more elegantly groomed, held back neatly by a gold circlet that proclaimed his title as a Dwarven prince. His clothes were finer. His beard looked thicker, though it wasn't nearly as majestic as that of his brethren.

But he still looked at her with that familiar, fierce tenderness; that same boyish smile tugging at the corners of his lips; the gentleness of his voice that both excited and calmed her. She reached out and touched his face, feeling the roughness of his bearded cheek against her hand.

He turned his face to lightly kiss the inside of her palm. "I missed you," he said, quietly.

Tauriel nodded. "I missed you too, Kili."


	2. Chapter 2

**HORIZONS OF SKY & STONE  
><strong>CHAPTER 2

* * *

><p>Her horse had been watered and stabled, and Tauriel herself was led to her lodging quarters by a pair of Dwarven chambermaids, and served a light supper. She was restless all throughout her meal and ate quickly, and her bath was equally rushed, serving just to wash off the dust and tiredness of her journey. Refreshed, she reached for the door, determined to ambush whatever guard or serving-maid that had been posted outside, and demand to be taken <em>immediately<em> to the Dwarven Prince ...

... only to find him standing alone by the door as it swung open.

He had been leaning boredly against the wall but now leapt to immediate attention, looking embarrassed. Tauriel wanted to laugh, but she felt slightly abashed herself that the Prince of Erebor had waited by the door for her like a common guardsman. But Kili didn't look at all self-conscious; things like titles hardly ever bothered him.

"Take a stroll with me," he invited, holding a hand out to her.

They walked down together through the halls of Erebor, talking about their lives since they last met, half a year ago - Kili's new responsibilities as a Prince, restoring the proud Dwarven kingdom to its former glory; and Tauriel's news from the court of King Thranduil.

Tauriel playfully reprimanded him. "It's not becoming for a Prince to wait by his guest's door like a common bodyguard."

"Well," he replied, "I served as a bodyguard once. When my people still didn't have our home, and we wandered the land as mercenaries, taking jobs where we could." He paused, remembering. "It actually paid quite well."

Tauriel smiled, entwining her fingers in his a little tighter. "You are a Prince now, Kili, and heir to the greatest treasury of the realm. But I am still Captain of the Royal Guard. Which means it is _me _who should be protecting _you_."

He looked at her then; and when she met his eyes, she quickly lowered her gaze again. She was always caught off-guard at how the way he looked at her - with such reverence, such adoration - could so easily disarm her, and turn her steely resolve into shyness. "You saved my life, once," he murmured quietly, his voice heavy with memory. "I will never tire of being protected by you."

* * *

><p>They passed the great feasting hall where another magnificent dinner was winding down. Snatches of songs and drunken brawls and the clanging of ale tankards drifted through the yawning halls, which were now lit with the soft golden light of a thousand torches. Soon those sounds faded the further they walked deeper into the mountain, and there was only silence save the padding of their footsteps and the whistling of torch-flames.<p>

Even though she had walked these halls before, Tauriel still marveled at how everything towered above her; how even the light of the torches couldn't reach the tops of the pillars as they disappeared high into the gloom. She stared at the labyrinthine corridors, wondering how would anyone be able to navigate these halls without getting lost, when Kili's voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Will you be wanting an audience with my Uncle tonight?" he asked, delicately. "Are the messages from Lord Thranduil so urgent that they cannot wait til morning?"

Tauriel smiled. "Not so urgent," she said. "The matters of Kings can wait til tomorrow's first audience. Tonight, I would rather spend time with Erebor's Prince."

He smiled, and took her hands her hands in his and was leading her forward. "Come with me," he said excitedly, his face lighting up with a happiness as open and guileless as a child's. "There is something I want to show you."

It was nighttime and everywhere was quiet, the forges and mines had ceased their noise of clanging hammers and roaring fires for the day. He led her down the winding corridors and countless flights of stairs; his infectious excitement causing them both to laugh as they raced through the echoing halls, trying in vain to keep the sanctity of the silence intact.

They passed through a dark passageway, where all was hushed - but the narrow walls and shadows soon gave way to red-gold firelight and open caverns, and soon they stood before a magnificent forge - this was where the Dwarves' most skilled blacksmiths fashioned weapons and jewelry, and ceremonial, gilded cups and plates for the King's finest banquets. The forge was dark and quiet for the night, but the light of stray torches cast a flickering light onto the towering cavern walls and massive iron-works.

Elves lived a long time - longer than any Man or Dwarf - but in all her years, Tauriel had never seen such a space of such overwhelming size and power. Not even the cavernous, gilded court of her Lord Thranduil could compare to the majesty of the Dwarven forges. There sat unlit kilns the size of small hills, huge vats that stood sleeping with bellies full of unmelted gold, and massive bellows that looked like they could cause small hurricanes. Tauriel stood still for awhile; taking in the grandeur of the place, and only moved when Kili led her down the flight of steps, into the echoing chamber.

She followed him into a smaller, adjoining room. Lanterns that were lit for the night cast a pale light onto rows of low desks and chairs, scales overflowing with glittering gems, and delicate tools that Tauriel recognized were used to ornament fine weapons. Here and there sat unfinished jewelry, daggers, and goblets of the finest Dwarven craftsmanship; Tauriel picked up an iron throwing knife with a dazzling golden hilt and studied it, testing its weight and admiring the finishing.

"Tauriel."

She turned towards Kili. He'd brought out an item wrapped in leather, bound with golden twine. She came to him and took the gift as it was presented to her, looking at him with a questioning look.

"This," Kili said, with ceremony, "is my gift to you."

She unwrapped the leather, slowly uncovering a fine Dwarvish blade of shimmering silver, inlaid with white gems and tendrils of gold. Tauriel was fascinated as she admired the beauty of it, and realized, with pleasant surprise, Elvish elements in its design - delicate, glasslike leaves and vines that wrapped around the hilt; and a sleekness that would have made it an elegant throwing knife as compared to a more traditional, sturdy Dwarvish design.

She looked again to Kili, who was smiling. "Do you like it?" he asked.

"I ..." she began, but then faltered. She was at loss for words. This was no ordinary Dwarvish dagger, no - it was obvious that Kili had it fashioned especially for her. It glittered strangely in the light, and seem to sing with a fine, white voice, and - with a gasp, Tauriel realized that the blade was crafted from pure _mithril_ - the most precious metal in all the Kingdoms.

"This ..." she began, breathless.

"_Mithril_," Kili said proudly. "Yes. It can be tempered like copper, but it shines like glass, and will not dull like a silver blade will. Look - isn't it beautiful in the firelight?"

Tauriel felt overwhelmed - she knew this was too fine and too precious a gift for a lowly Elven guard as herself. She smiled up at Kili with pained eyes.

"My love," she said, "it pains me that you should give me such beautiful things. I am neither an Elven princess or Lady; I am merely an emissary, here to deliver messages between the two Kingdoms, nothing more. A mere messenger cannot accept such fine things."

Kili looked sad, but his expression lost none of its tenderness. "You may not be a princess, but I am a Dwarven prince, and no gem or metal in this earth is too precious for me to give to you."

Before Tauriel could protest, he continued. "And you are mistaken - you are more than just a mere messenger to me. You are the Lady who holds my heart, and all of my love. And if I could give you all the stars in the sky or harness the moon and bring it to your window, I would. This is but a poor substitute for all the beauty of the world I wish I could to give you."

Tauriel couldn't meet his eyes, then - she faltered between joy and despair, and tried to turn away, but Kili took her hand and said, quietly, "Tauriel, my love, my life. All I wanted was to see you happy. If you do not want my gift, just say the word. All the beauty of the world is meaningless to me if your happiness is not part of it."

She laughed then. "Oh, such pretty words!" she said. "My Lord Kili. How many poor Elven maidens' hearts will you charm with those silvery words of yours?"

He smiled. The touch of his fingers suddenly felt like flames in her hands. "I am only interested in one Elven maiden's heart," he said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. "And if I cannot charm her, my words will serve no purpose."

She stared straight into his eyes. They were dark, so dark - like a deep, nighttime sky, but were glistening as if they were lit by stars, and she felt the air around her became heady, as if she had drunk too much wine or danced for far too long. In all her years, she had never felt this way before - this intense vulnerability, this defenselessness against the whisper of his voice.

She knew she was in love, then. She knew it long before, she knew it now - and in each whorl of the dagger's design and in the glitter of each inlaid gem, she felt the weight of Kili's love for her. If she refused his gift, she would regret it forever.

"Your mother was right," she said, admitting defeat.

Kili laughed, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"You _are_ reckless," she said, sheathing the dagger. "Very reckless."

_I'd just have to find a way to keep it hidden from my lord Thranduil,_ Tauriel thought, but for now she'd accept it proudly like a Lady for her Dwarven prince.


	3. Chapter 3

**HORIZONS OF SKY AND STONE  
><strong>CHAPTER 3

* * *

><p>It was the morning audience in the Court of Erebor, and King Thorin sat in his throne, the Arkenstone gleaming like a beacon above him.<p>

All around, the throne room was hushed as all manners of concerns were laid before the new King. Standing beside Thorin, on his immediate right was Balin, now his right-hand advisor, who held a scroll and wore worried look on his face as the morning drew on. On Thorin's left were Fili And Kili - next in line to the Throne of Erebor, observing the ways of governance as a form of preparation for their eventual ascension to the throne.

Next to them was Dwalin, Captain of the King's Guard, and to Balin's right was Ori, secretary of the court. Ori was the only one besides Thorin who was seated, and had a great book upon a desk before him, as well as a quill and an inkpot. He was jotting down notes of the audience as it progressed.

The morning grew late as Dwarves and the occasional merchant from Dale put forth their matters - _not enough limestone to finish the repairs in the southern quarters, milord, shall we open another quarry? Trade in leather has been profitable; perhaps we shall open a new trade route for furs? _- until eventually, it came to the Elven emissary's turn.

Thorin watched closely as she strode to stand before the Throne, and his gaze instinctively flicked to his youngest nephew. He immediately felt his guard rising when he saw the openness of Kili's smile as she approached; but when he looked back at the emissary she maintained her cool gaze on the Throne, her neutral expression betraying none of her emotions.

Thorin couldn't trust Elves, not really. They were a dangerous and wily folk; and he hated the sound of their foreign tongue, and the way they seemed to stare from a lofty perch, assuming themselves better than others.

But this red-haired one; something was quite different about her. She wasn't like Thranduil, or the rest of her kin. When she spoke, she would meet others' gazes with the clear, curious eyes of someone who tried to understand the world around her.

Thorin wondered if his nephew had anything to do with that.

"My lord King Thorin, son Thrain, King Under the Mountain," she said, her voice ringing out through the throne room. "I am Tauriel, of the Court of King Thranduil."

Thorin waved his hand for her to continue. "What news from the Woodland Realm?"

Tauriel bit her lip, and Thorin knew he wasn't going to be happy to hear this message.

"My lord King sends his sincerest greetings in his absence," she said. "I had been sent ahead, to give word that my lord and his retinue will ride here upon the half-moon, to acknowledge the new King of Erebor."

Thorin raised an eyebrow, already feeling a weight descend on his shoulders. "Thranduil wants to visit Erebor," he said, a cold dread settling in his stomach. _Oh perfect, more Elves. _

Tauriel nodded, resigned. "I will ride out to meet my lord upon midday, and escort him here. We will arrive two days hence."

Thorin sighed, and turned to whisper to Balin. "I know why the Elf-King rides here," he said, softly enough so that the others wouldn't hear.

"Yes," Balin said with a worried nod. "Elven blood was spilled to defend these lands. It has been almost a year since the great Battle, and now King Thranduil is finally seeking his compensation."

It was a visit Thorin wasn't looking forward to, but he knew it was something he had to endure. He was King of Erebor, now. And there was unfinished business that he would have to address with the Woodland Realm.

"Make preparations for the Elven company," he commanded to the court. "Food, lodging, and stabling for their horses." As servants bustled to heed his orders, Balin proclaimed to the hall, "And so concludes the morning audience!" and the court immediately adjourned.

Thorin turned towards Fili and Kili. He spoke low: "You both. Come with me."

* * *

><p>Kili watched helplessly as Tauriel strode out of the throne room, remembering what she had said: <em>"I will ride out to meet my lord upon midday."<em> The morning was already late - the sun approached its peak and he worried he wouldn't be able to see her before she left.

His eyes followed the copper-red of her hair as she disappeared among the throng of greys and blues of the crowd exiting the hall. But there was a bright flash of movement as she turned her head to glance at him, the brilliance of her eyes striking like lightning as they met his - and he saw her mouth the words, _"Come meet me," _before she was gone.

Thorin called over his shoulder, "Come, all of you; there is much we need to discuss." They followed him as he stepped down from the Throne's dias, and Kili watched curiously as Fili took a servant aside to whisper something, before the servant bowed and left.

"What was that about?" Kili asked.

"Just making preparations," was Fili's reply, and he said nothing more.

They went into a smaller, adjoining antechamber, where there sat a round table and a few low chairs. A flurry of servants came in to serve them heavy silver flagons of ale, and after they bustled out of the room, Thorin immediately declared, "We are about to be plagued by Elves."

Kili ignored his Uncle's dark expression and merely stared quietly at his boots.

Thorin continued. "They will demand great compensation for their role in the Battle. I am sure Thranduil is after the White Gems of Lasgalen, among other things. He will exaggerate his people's sacrifice in the war. I will not bleed our people dry when we are still rebuilding our home; not when every resource is precious."

He stared out at everyone at the table. "I will need you - all of you - for your counsel."

This was followed by back-and-forth conversations between Dwalin, Balin and Thorin, who speculated and bargained over carts of gold and chests of silver to offer the Elven host, should they demand compensation for their role in the Battle. Fili would occasionally nod as he listened; but both he and his brother remained silent throughout the meeting. Kili would fidget and throw nervous glances at the door, wondering how much time had passed.

After a while, Dwalin took a swig of ale, seeming defeated. "As if they are not rich enough," he said. "Why do I feel we are always being repressed by Elves, whether we have a Kingdom or not?"

Balin spoke. "It's too early to say what they will ask for sure; But if it should come down to our offer, maybe a set of silver cups or a chest of our finest emeralds would placate the Elven King?"

But when Fili spoke, it surprised Kili: "Give them what they want."

There was a silence as everyone regarded Fili's words, and stared at him.

"They will be satisfied, and they will leave. And our debt will be repaid."

Thorin turned to him, speaking gravely. "And is that your decision, as my heir and successor?"

Fili steadily met his Uncle's gaze. "When I lay dying upon Ravenhill, I thought that would be my last day," he said, quietly. "I came very, very near death, Uncle. I would even say I crossed that veil between the living and the dead; but the first thing I saw when I was brought back was an Elven healer together with Oin, reviving me with both their Elvish magic and our Dwarven medicine."

There was a silence as he let his words sink in. Kili remembered that day – he was sure Thorin remembered it as well. They had almost died there, in the snow and ruins of Ravenhill – but by some miracle, Thranduil did not turn his forces away, and in an alliance that surprised them all, Elves and Dwarves had worked together to save the sons of Durin.

"We are alive today because they chose to save us," Fili reminded them. "The line of Durin endures because they chose not to leave, when they could have."

Thorin narrowed his eyes – but instead of looking angry, he seemed more wary, like a wolf pacing the mouth of a cave. "They would have had their own reasons to stay after the battle," Thorin said in a low voice. "To staunch the Orc threat before it reached their borders, or what other hidden interests they may have."

"Do you really think they're all like that?"

Everyone turned to Kili, now that chose to speak. He returned their surprised gazes in turn with a challenging look – but when he met his brother's eyes he smiled slightly, and Fili gave a knowing nod in reply.

"No, not all Elves," Fili said, encouragingly. "At least, not your Tauriel."

And Kili's smile grew broader.

"Enough," Thorin said impatiently, planting both fists into the table. "You've both said your piece. You may go. I will continue this discussion with the rest."

Fili and Kili filed out of the room, and Thorin watched them leave with a sober look in his eyes. His nephews were so very, very young, but he knew they were no fools. He had a lot to think about.

"Um, should I put that last bit in?" Ori said nervously, his quill hovering over his last sentence in his great book. This was met with slight headshake from Balin, who then looked worriedly at his King, who was now silent, deep in thought.

* * *

><p>"I do believe that is the first time I've heard you call her by her name," Kili said, pleased. They walked rapidly down the stone throne room, towards the Hall of Kings.<p>

"Well yes, I couldn't be calling her, 'the Elven emissary', or 'that red-haired Elf-maid' forever," Fili replied. "And speaking of which, you might need to hurry if you're going to catch her before she leaves."

And a look of panic overcame Kili's face, but just as he was about to launch himself into a run, Fili grabbed his arm and added, "And just in case you're too late, there is a pony saddled and waiting for you near the Gates, if you need to catch up to her."

Kili looked at his brother in a mixture of wonderment and awe. "How-?" he began, but remembered his brother speaking to the servant before the meeting.

"Thank you brother," he said, his heart filling with gratitude. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

Fili merely pushed his brother's shoulder forward. "Go," he said, with a wry grin. "You are still my little brother, Kili, and I would still stand by you and your choices. No matter how stupid I think they are."

Kili drew his brother into a swift hug, before sprinting down the hall.

And Fili watched as his brother's figure grew smaller as he ran furiously through shafts of sunlight streaming through the windows, and sighed wistfully. He remembered the way Kili had looked at Tauriel, that day on the shores of the Long Lake - that hopeful, desolate, longing look. A look that she had returned, as they rowed away.

And Fili had spent the whole time since preparing himself for the moment he would have to let his little brother go.

He found out - to mild distress - that he wasn't nearly prepared enough.

* * *

><p>Tauriel waited by the great gates. Her horse had already been saddled, and it nickered impatiently as it smelt the grass and the air, eager to start riding.<p>

But Tauriel lingered. She knew she couldn't wait any longer, that she should be heading immediately to her King's side – and yet, she stared longingly into the gloomy depths of the hall, her eyes straining against the darkness for the faintest silhouette of a figure to come running to her.

A Dwarven guard came up to her, and politely cleared his throat. "Will you be needing anything else for your journey, milady?"

She lowered her gaze and bit her lip, nervously thumbing the reins of her horse. There were enough rations to last a week, more than enough for her day's journey. Her quiver lay full on unused arrows; her water-skin filled.

"No, thank you," she murmured regretfully. With one last look down the hall, she mounted her horse, and began a slow canter down the bridge leading out of Erebor.

_I will be back in a few days_, she thought, trying to comfort herself as a strange sort of hurt gripped her chest.

She gazed out into the world before her – bright, blue open skies, plains of grass whispering in the breeze; the city of Dale shining like a jewel in the distance, with its colourful banners and honey-coloured towers … but no matter how beautifully the world stretched out before her, the only thing she wanted to see before she left Erebor was a familiar face smiling back at her; and a pair of bright eyes, dark as night.

But sun had already passed its peak, and already Tauriel could feel the call of her King beckoning. She urged her horse into a swift gallop as she fought against the strain in her chest.

It was then she heard it. Faint at first, but then her ears caught the sound of her name called out loud, carried on the breeze.

She turned back. She saw Kili emerge from behind the gates, bursting into the brilliant sunlight, astride a galloping white pony. He looked quite glorious, riding at full speed, his cape of furs and his wild hair flying behind him.

Tauriel's breath caught in her throat. She swiftly turned around and rode towards him. There were a dozen desperate, anxious words playing on the tip of her tongue, but as the space closed between them she forgot every single one; she was so relieved to see him.

"My lady Tauriel," Kili said, smiling. The sight of him – with his wind-tousled hair, and the brightness in his eyes and colour in his cheeks from the ride – made the strain in Tauriel's heart all the more harder to bear. "I couldn't let you leave without saying goodbye."

"I would have waited longer," she replied. "But you took so long."

He laughed. "I'm sorry – I would've come sooner, if I could. You know I wouldn't willingly spend a second away from you." And it was true.

Tauriel lowered her gaze, unable to meet his eyes. She wanted to linger; to make this moment stretch on forever. But with heaviness in her voice, she merely replied, "Will you wait for me?"

Kili nodded, and reached a hand to her. She touched the tips of his fingers, and again looked into his eyes.

"_Innikh dê_,"he said, so softly that Tauriel could barely hear it. She drew closer, lifted his hand and gently touched it against her cheek; and then she pulled away, feeling the space open up between them like a winter chill.

_Return to me._

She rode away, faster, faster, so that the winds would dry her tears.


	4. Chapter 3-5

**HORIZONS OF SKY AND STONE  
><strong>CHAPTER 3.5

* * *

><p><em>"You will not turn your back. Not this time."<em>

Thranduil would never forget how clearly her voice rang out; how she had stood, all fire and fury, the blaze of her presence isolated against the blinding-white of the snow. He had never felt so infuriated – and yet he felt strangely proud. She was young, so young, and foolish – but in her raw defiance she radiated strength.

He was reminded, suddenly, of a warrior-maiden he had left long ago in the past, whose beauty was only rivaled by her arrogance. Thranduil heard echoes of her in Tauriel's voice, in the way she stood, in the dangerous flash of her eyes.

"Get out of my way," Thranduil snarled. She was in direct defiance of her King, her treasonous arrow pointed towards his head – he had every right to strike her head from her shoulders, then.

But just as his blade whistled through the air, aiming to disarm her, she lowered her bow.

He stopped his sword just in the nick of time – the edge of the blade hovered mere inches away from Tauriel's pale cheek; and, shaken, Thranduil lowered his sword – he knew in that moment that he had never meant to strike her.

Tauriel's gaze was lowered towards the earth. Her breathing was quick, as if she were afraid, but her eyes bright with tears as she looked up: "I had thought you saw your life worth more than theirs," she said. "That you would have abandoned them to die, when they needed your help the most.

"I only saw through my anger – I saw no love in you."

Thranduil was silent, letting the coldness of her words settle and seep in, but still he listened.

A movement from the corner of his eye made him glance right – and his son Legolas stood there, looking between him and Tauriel, concern knotting his brow.

Tauriel noticed his arrival, and seemed to draw strength from it.

"But I am wrong," she continued, her gaze on Legolas, but seeming to look past him. Her voice was soft as the falling snow. "My King – I cannot doubt that there is love in you, still.

"All these years you have sheltered me, and you have treated me well – but I was never meant to stay hidden in the dark. I am part of this world, and I am meant to seek out its light. And before you send me away, before I leave your side forever, please – for all the years I followed you –" her voice quietened to no louder than a whisper, "for all the years you have loved me, _I beg you_ – Do not turn your back now. Do not abandon them again."

And then he remembered - the little girl-Elf, no higher than his knee, with hair and red as flame whom had broken from the crowd of mourners following the procession of his soldiers fallen in battle. She had clung to the hand of her dead father as his body was carried away, tears streaming down her face as she called, over and over, _"Ada, Ada"__._

He did not know what possessed him to turn around and pick that little Silvan girl from the crowd – but the years passed quickly like the falling of autumn leaves, and though Legolas was his only true child, he had grown used to having them both by his side, watching them grow up together, safe and within sight.

He didn't think she would try to leave the home he had given her … or how much that absence actually mattered to him.

"What you feel for that Dwarf," Thranduil continued, "are you prepared to die for it?"

The tears that rimmed Tauriel's eyes now rolled down her cheeks – and Thranduil knew the answer before she gave it.

He turned to his lieutenant. "Dispatch our swiftest archers to Ravenhill. We will see to it that Azog is cut down this day, before that Gundabad scum can stretch its vile reach into our lands.

"And," he added, almost as an afterthought, "Send for our most skilled healers. I suspect we will need them very soon."


	5. Chapter 4

**HORIZONS OF SKY & STONE  
><strong>CHAPTER 4

* * *

><p>The moon was high in the sky when Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm marched from his halls towards the Dwarven Kingdom of Erebor. He turned his face heavenward, drifting in and out of distant memories as he admired the silvery, pearlescent light of the moon as it lit up the path before him.<p>

A year and a half had passed since he had last stood beneath the shadow of the Lonely Mountain. Though he was content not to venture into the Dwarven lands too often, he had kept communication open between both Kingdoms in the form of his single, solitary emissary.

She was, at that moment, supposed to meet him at the Northern borders of the Mirkwood. But as the forest began to thin out and give way into the wide, grassy plains, there still was no sign of her.

"Tauriel is late," he remarked to his son Legolas, who rode beside him. "She should have been here an hour ago."

Legolas nodded, brow creased in worry. "This is most uncommon of her."

Tauriel wasn't usually late. She took no small pride in her ruthless efficiency in all her duties, particularly in her new post as emissary. As Thranduil wondered what could have caused her tardiness, a muffled cry from the back of the procession interrupted his thoughts.

There were sounds of commotion, and the flickering torchflames held aloft by the company began to dance around in scattered panic. Thranduil gave the command to halt.

He glanced at his son. "Go and see what that is," he said, and Legolas rode back into the twilit gloom of the forest.

For a long while Legolas didn't return; and as the shouts grew louder and the horses began to nicker nervously, hushed warnings began to carry on the breeze – subtle, sinister whispers of cobwebs and venom and dark things that skulked in deep shadows – and Thranduil knew exactly what threatened his company.

"_Spiders!" _came panicked cries, as members of the procession came running forward to safety.

Thranduil drew his sword, and urged his steed back down towards the rear of the procession. He felt mild irritation growing at having his carefully-laid plans disturbed, and aimed to settle things as soon as possible.

Legolas was in the midst of combat when Thranduil arrived. "We seem to be under attack," he remarked drily, driving an arrow right between the rows of a spider's many eyes; then slicing a blade cleanly through the head of another.

Guards were kept busy from all fronts, holding off what seemed to be an entire nest of the giant spiders.

"Where is Tauriel?" Legolas asked as more spiders streamed from the depths of the forest, and Thranduil shook his head as he cut through the swarm, the silvery-white of his hair and robes like a blaze of liquid lightning against the darkness.

But then, in the heat of the moment, Tauriel appeared as if summoned.

She broke through the trees, nocking, drawing and loosing a volley of arrows upon the invading creatures – and at the sight of their Captain, the Elven guards began to rally.

She gave a swift series of commands. As the company of Guards fell into position, more and more spiders were slain and their numbers dwindled. The last few remaining ones began to retreat into the darkness of the forest, a host of the Elven guard in pursuit.

Over the mess of slain spiders, Tauriel met the eyes of her King – she could tell he wasn't pleased.

"You're late," he said, by way of greeting.

Tauriel was just about to begin her apology, when she caught sight of a stray spider, dropping in on his head to attack.

She could only act in a split second. Without thinking, she reached for her closest weapon – a dagger – and flung it forward with deadly accuracy.

The dagger flew past Thranduil's shoulder and pinned the spider into a tree behind him, its blade planted firmly through the middle of the creature's head. It squirmed and gave a choking death rattle, before its entire body stiffened and slumped.

Tauriel stepped immediately to her King's side.

But as she drew closer, she noticed, in growing alarm, the dagger that Thranduil now drew from the body of the dead creature.

The fine white blade sang with an exquisite silver shine, like a shard of starlight in the dark – it was Kili's gift dagger. Tauriel had thrown it in a moment of pure instinct and unthinking; and her jaw clenched tensely as she watched Thranduil turning it over and over, studying it in his hands.

"_Mithril_." His voice betrayed no emotion. "Is this new?"

Tauriel couldn't bring herself to answer at first. She struggled at a few replies – but as Thranduil handed the dagger back to her, there was a strange, faint smile on his lips.

"Keep it safe," he said. "This is a treasure of unspeakable value." He didn't look angry.

Tauriel's throat was dry as she cleaned and sheathed the dagger. She glanced towards Legolas, who was glaring at her in a way that was not unlike his father's.

But he, too, said nothing.

And Tauriel knew she had made a grave mistake – that dagger should have been kept hidden; hers and Kili's secret.

"The spiders have travelled far from Dol Guldur," Legolas remarked suddenly. Tauriel bowed, taking that chance to take her leave and retrieve her horse.

"The Grey Wizard has told me that the sorcerer calling himself the Necromancer has fled that fortress," Thranduil explained, "and with their Master gone, its dark inhabitants have begun fleeing into the forest." His eyes followed Tauriel as she returned. "When we return from Erebor, I expect we shall be kept quite busy."

Tauriel took her position by King's side, and as the procession regrouped, they continued their journey after the interruption. Conversation was kept light – news from Erebor, mundane talk of the journey ahead – and Tauriel's dagger was never brought up again.

And though she was slightly relieved, she couldn't shake off that small, nagging feeling that this might have set in motion a chain of events she wouldn't be able to stop.

* * *

><p>Thorin and Balin stood waiting at the Front Gates of the Mountain – Thorin paced restlessly, while Balin merely watched on with a weary look.<p>

It had been two days since the Elven emissary left, and the company of King Thranduil was due to arrive that afternoon – but the day had grown late, and as the sun cast long, dark shadows into the halls within, the paved roads leading to Erebor remained empty.

"Where are they?" he muttered to Balin, who shook his head in reply.

"Perhaps they came across some difficulties along the road?"

"Perhaps they changed their mind, and are not coming," Thorin said, daring to hope.

But there came a cry from the guards – and Thorin's budding hopes were dashed. Over the horizon, King Thranduil's company arrived in a shining fleet of grey and gold: bannermen, servants, guards, scribes, footmen, stewards – Thorin braced himself for his halls to be filled with the sight and sound of the Mirkwood Elves for the next few days.

They cantered straight into the halls until Thranduil and his son Legolas stood before Thorin, silhouetted in the light of the sunset – the Elf-king took no small expense in his appearance; all grand and regal in threads of moonlight-silvers and trailing a cloak of amber-red.

He had the grace to dismount from his Elk before he addressed his host.

"Thorin son of Thrain, Lord of Erebor," he greeted loftily, bowing his head slightly. "I apologise for the late arrival. We were ambushed by a plague of spiders … I'm sure you're familiar with the experience."

"King Thranduil," came Thorin's reply. He delicately ignored the statement about spiders, and turned to address the Elvenking's son. "Prince Legolas. We welcome you into the Halls of our fathers."

The procession began to disband. As horses were led away and the Elven host was attended to, Thranduil's servants brought our four great oaken chests, which they opened before Thorin and Balin with much ceremony.

"Gifts from the Woodland Realm," Thranduil proclaimed, "as a token of goodwill between our peoples."

Inside, lying in nests of golden leaves were luxurious bolts of bronze-coloured material; dark bottles of strong Dorwinion wines; delicate, jewel-like cups of blown glass, and dark-red ingots of raw amber that cast a dusky crimson glow in the dying sunlight.

Thorin tried very hard not to feel impressed – even though he undeniably was. The treasures of Mirkwood glittered in his eyes, and he felt the hard edges of his poor temper begin to soften.

He showed no outward sign of it, though: "I appreciate the generosity of the Woodland Realm," he said stiffly, and, sweeping his arm into the lofty hall, "please join us for our evening meal."

As the King and his son were escorted in, Thorin glanced back and caught sight of the Elven emissary, who was now briefing an assembly of her guards.

For an instant, she had glanced over her back into the hall beyond – but seemed to gaze pass them, her expression flickering momentarily into a look of expectation; as if she were hoping someone else to be there.

Thorin narrowed his eyes, and solemnly turned to make his way to the great feasting hall.


	6. Chapter 5

**HORIZONS OF SKY & STONE**  
>CHAPTER 5<p>

* * *

><p>"Sit down, Kili."<p>

Fili watched as his little brother paced back and forth over the same spot, as if he were aiming wear down a path in the stone floor. "You're making the servants nervous."

They were waiting in the feasting hall for the arrival of the Elven host – but dinnertime had passed and they approached supper, and Kili wasn't the only one feeling impatient as food and drink lay politely untouched on the tables.

"Why do you think they're late?" Kili asked his brother worriedly.

Fili shrugged. "Who knows? A lot of things could have happened. Maybe the Elf-king accidentally left his little tiara at home, and had to turn around to get it."

That was supposed to help his brother laugh, but Kili only managed a strained smile. "Could they have met some trouble on the road?"

"You can't say for sure," Fili said, sighing. He knew why his brother was worried. "Sit down and have some ale, Kili. It will calm your nerves."

But the rest of the Dwarven company was getting restless – and hungry. "I say we start eating now, Elves be _damned_," Dwalin announced, reaching for a leg of chicken.

But just as he did so, the great ironwood doors of the hall burst open, and in strode Thranduil and Thorin, flanked by Balin and the Elvenking's son. Dwalin tossed the chicken leg back onto the golden platter in annoyance, and wiped the grease from his fingers on his leather surcoat.

"Announcing the arrival of King Thranduil Oropherion, Lord of the Woodland Realm, and the Crown Prince Legolas," the Elven herald proclaimed, as the royal retinue strode in. Only when Thorin and Thranduil were seated at the head table did the stewards move forward to serve the meals – and soon the hall was filled with the bright sounds of clanging ale tankards and clinking metal.

Kili tried to glance discreetly past his brother and Uncle at the Elven side of the table. There sat Thranduil (silver crown inlaid with summery green-gold leaves firmly on his head), the Elven-prince, and a handful of attendants who buzzed about their King like gold-clad bees.

No sign of familiar auburn hair, or a flash of forest-green eyes. Kili looked away dejectedly. Though he was hungry, he ate slowly and without mirth.

After the initial inhibitions and wary eyeing each other down, the flowing ale and wines loosened the tensions between Elves and Dwarves. And soon, the visiting Mirkwood Elves were challenging the Dwarves of Erebor to robust drinking games – _"We were feasting and drinking long before you were born, little ones!"_ – and servants struggled to bring in more kegs of ale as the evening wore down.

Thranduil and Thorin, meanwhile, were deep in conversation. They barely picked at their food, and only sipped at their goblets, occasionally exchanging words in low voices.

The Dwarves had now brought out fifes and harps and had started merry feasting songs – and over the growing commotion, Fili could barely hear what Thorin and Thranduil were saying.

But just then, as the music died down into the beginnings of a new song, Thranduil murmured something to Thorin which caused the latter's shoulders to suddenly go rigid and still.

" – _appeared to be a gift,"_ seemed to be Elvenking's last word, and his eyes flickered to the other end of the table.

And slowly, Thorin turned to his left.

His gaze was on Kili, who seemed oblivious to his surroundings, and was looking out over the hall with a wistful look in his eyes.

Fili kicked his brother's foot discreetly under the table, snapping him out of his reverie.

Kili looked about, suddenly noticing his surroundings. "What's the matter, Uncle?"

But as just Thorin was about to speak, a loud roar erupted from the middle of the hall, followed by a series of raucous cheers and jeers. Apparently Gloin had lost in a drinking match to a young Elven steward, and tensions were rapidly rising as Elves and Dwarves began to rally to each side. Food had begun fly everywhere and the music grew louder and faster as tiny pockets of fights erupted around the hall.

Thorin shook his head – when they got like this, there was no stopping them. He motioned to his chief attendant – "Prepare the small audience chamber. I will speak with King Thranduil," and soon the Kings exited the hall, accompanied by a flurry of attendants.

Fili and Kili, however, found that this audience was meant to be between Kings only. They exchanged puzzled glances, unsure what to do after being left behind.

"I'll be back," Kili suddenly announced, getting up from his chair.

"Wait, where are you going?"

Kili nodded towards the other end of the table and said quickly, "Keep him distracted!" before launching himself down the hall and through the open doors.

Fili looked towards the Elven end of the table, where sat Prince Legolas, who had also been excluded from the Kings' meeting – and he was looking more and more uncomfortable at the unfolding chaos before them.

As Legolas smoothly dodged a bread roll that came flying towards his head, he met Fili's gaze, and raised a thoroughly unhappy eyebrow.

Clearing his throat, Fili asked: "So … could I interest you in a tour of the Mountain?"

* * *

><p>Tauriel sang softly to herself as she routinely began cleaning, polishing and sharpening her weapons. First, her twin daggers, carved from horn and ironwood – then began oiling and waxing her bow, to keep it supple.<p>

It had been a long journey – after she had dismissed her Guards and retired to her room, her mind began to stray and wander to many troubled thoughts.

Her hand hovered hesitantly over a leather pouch. Dipping her hand inside, she drew out and unsheathed the _mithril_ dagger – beautiful, useful, and worth a king's ransom. It glistened brilliantly; looking like it would never need polishing or sharpening in a thousand years to keep its shine or its sharp edge.

She traced the twining Elven designs in the metalwork, mingling with the straight-cut Dwarven motifs; and then longingly, she glanced to the door.

_He probably is in council with the Kings now_, she thought. _He wouldn't have time to meet me, tonight._

With a small sigh, Tauriel resumed her little song, resigning herself to another night of solitary stargazing until the first light of morning – when there was a quiet knock at the door.

She paused, wondering who would be calling on her so late. _Hadn't I declined the evening meal?_ Thinking it would be a summons from her King, she rose and strode to answer it.

And there stood Kili – gazing up at her with a beaming smile that looked like it would light up the whole room.

"I'm not supposed to be here," he announced happily.

Unable to stop her own smile from spreading out across her face, Tauriel ushered him into the room and shut the door behind them.

"What is the name of the song you were singing?" Kili asked, settling on a stone bench at the foot of the bed.

Tauriel let out a little laugh – of course he would be eavesdropping. "It's the song of Nimrodel," she said, sitting by him. "She was a fair maiden of ancient Lorien, who lived over a thousand years ago. She was fated never to be with the one she loved."

Kili frowned. "What happened to her?"

And Tauriel continued the song of the Elf-maiden Nimrodel – and though she sang in her native Sindarin, the flowing, lilting Elvenson brought Kili to bright, golden forests, where there lay clear pools of crystal waters in shining glades; and as the melody deepened, he heard of blizzards on white snow; and the curling, foaming waves of a furious sea.

A brief silence settled in the room when it ended – and Kili seemed to shake himself out of a trance. He cleared his throat.

"You have a lovely voice," he said bluntly, seeming to find himself speechless for the first time. There was a light colour in his cheeks, a small tremble in his voice. "I mean, it's a beautiful song. But … I gather it did not end well for both of them."

"No," Tauriel said with regret. "The fair Nimrodel was lost in the snows of the White Mountains, and her beloved Amroth was drowned in the waters of the Bay of Belfalas." And in a faraway voice, she added, "She was a Silvan Elf, just like me."

Kili made a grim face. "I never liked tragedies. If it were up to me, I would have given them a happy ending – they would have sailed away together, and raised many children, and built a shining white tower as a symbol of their love."

Tauriel smiled, and reached across the stone bench for his hand. Her fingers twined into his. "I would have liked that, too," she said.

Kili looked at her. In a soft, playful voice he asked, "And what of the song of fierce, beautiful Tauriel, and the Dwarven prince who loved her?"

Tauriel had to laugh at this – the idea that they would go down into legend like Nimrodel or Lúthien Tinúviel was flattering, yet far-fetched – but even in the playfulness of the question, she imagined a beautiful verse for them, soaring and sad; and hoped, in the depths of her heart, that it had a happy ending.

"Kili," she said, in a soft voice, "My King knows about the dagger."

He raised his eyebrows, and still smiling, asked, "Oh? And what did he think of it?"

"He said it was a treasure of unspeakable value."

"So the Elvenking recognizes the value of Dwarven bladesmithing," Kili surmised cheerfully. "Wait until I show him Fili's new set of throwing axes – I think he'll like those."

"Kili," Tauriel said, this time more seriously. "This will appear to him as if the treasures of Erebor flow freely from its Halls – it will work against your King; he would be hard-pressed to hold onto the wealth of your people."

She shook her head, and pulled her hand away. "I'm sorry," she continued. "I didn't mean to be so careless."

Kili turned to her, fully, then. He took her hands in his again, drawing closer. "If it were up to me, Tauriel, you would be wearing that dagger proudly at your side, to draw whenever you need it; not to keep hidden and secret, where it would serve you no purpose."

He ran his thumbs over her fingers lightly, looking down at their hands. "I do not fear my Uncle," he said. "I know of his hardships and his sacrifices, and he has suffered much. He cares deeply for his kin. But he clings to his past, along with all his bitter grudges."

He looked up at her. "The Wood-elves defended these lands just as bravely as any Dwarf or Man of Dale, and have just as much claim on the wealth of the Mountain. And I may be of the line of Durin, and I may be of my Uncle's blood – but I will not inherit his hatred." Then he lifted her hands, and pressed her fingers lightly to his lips. "I will not be afraid."

Tauriel smiled at him. His words filled her with courage, a fiery hope – but even in the midst of it, she felt cold doubt like a shadow.

"Kili," she said quietly. "Let me not be the one who will divide you from your kin." She spoke the words that weighed on her heart, though they were painful to say. "If our fates were ours alone, I will stand by you until the days take us; I will share all the days of the world with you. But you have your people; as I have mine. And should the day come when we have to choose between them, who am I to pull you away?"

At this, Kili said nothing. Curiously, he reached out across the bed and took the _mithril_ dagger from where it lay. He held it balanced in both hands.

"I was given this dagger at my coronation," he said. "There were other raiments they gave me, since I was supposed to be a Prince and all – rings and cloaks and belts and furs – all sorts of finery I wasn't used to. This dagger, though, I felt might be useful."

Slowly, his fingers traced the silver carvings of the handle. "I know why you are worried, Tauriel. But have courage. Have hope. I do not think I will have to choose between you and my people – to me, we are one and the same." He looked at her; and she saw the light fill his eyes. "I will see a day when Dwarves and Elves are not sundered. This blade is like the world we share – we walk the same paths, under the same stars, fates intertwined."

He put the dagger aside. "Let me share this world with you." He smiled – and in the light of his face, Tauriel felt her doubts clear, and a rare hope spring in her heart. The more she looked at him, the more he seemed to glimmer with a beautiful, fading light – a light she wanted to seek out; a light that would guide her even on the most silent, loneliest nights.

She knelt before him so that their eyes would meet. "When the time comes," she promised, "I will stand by you. And I, too, will not be afraid."

The smile on his face grew. And slowly, he drew towards her until the space between them closed – and framing her face in the palm of his hand, he laid a soft, burning kiss upon her lips.

Tauriel felt as if her heart would stop. The stars seemed to drop from the sky to dance in her head, and across her tingling skin. She felt Kili's arm encircle her waist as the kiss deepened – and there was nothing else in the world but his lips on hers; the heat of his skin, the sound of her hammering heart.

They pulled away slowly; his gaze was soft as it lingered on her face, and he reached up slowly and ran his fingers through a lock of her hair.

"Ours might not be as great a song as that of Nimrodel and Amroth," he said quietly. "But when they sing of us in great feasting halls and over burning hearths, let's give them a happier ending."


End file.
